


By Any Other Name

by WillowPerpetua



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anal Sex, Canon-Typical Violence, Civil War (Marvel), Dirty Talk, M/M, Oral Sex, Phone Sex, Sexual Content, Shakespeare adaptation, Shakespeare is rolling in his grave right now, Slow Build, Steve and Natasha BROTP, Steve is Juliet, Steve/Bucky fic to the tune of Romeo and Juliet, taking HUGE liberties with Marvel Civil War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-16
Updated: 2015-01-30
Packaged: 2018-02-25 13:23:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 18,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2623256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WillowPerpetua/pseuds/WillowPerpetua
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Stucky fic, loosely based on Romeo and Juliet, minus the tears. </p><p>The Superpowered feud between HYDRA and S.H.I.E.L.D is spinning out of control. Meanwhile, Tony Stark hosts a masked ball. The Winter Soldier is in attendance, despite his absence from the guest list.<br/>Hijinks ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Act 1, Scene I - V.5

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is going to be pretty heavy on the fluff. Also, for the sake of brevity and getting into the shippiness of the fic, some of the early fight scenes have been cut. Don't worry, it will get made up for in later scenes.

_SUPERPOWERED FEUD THREATENS ENTIRE EAST COAST_.  
  
     Fury glanced at the headline and put down the newspaper, swearing under his breath. He didn’t know how it got out of hand so quickly. One moment, HYDRA was a shadowy figure, bent on world domination through the manipulation of the public and then –boom!— they were a  fully-fledged supervillain operation again. 

     He had, perhaps, taken the betrayal of his life-long friend and associate, Alexander Pierce, a little hard. If pushed, Fury might admit that swearing vengeance against HYDRA publically and giving his highest level agents open orders to do as they saw fit in a rant across the comms may have been ill-advised. At the end of the day, however, he would likely do it again. It all came down to stopping HYDRA. He would meet that goal at all costs.

     The team gathered again at Stark Tower. It was as good as any place to hold meetings. _Better,_ Stark assured him, due to the advanced security and privacy measures. Up the elevator and through a series of sterile white and chrome hallways, he found the room that held the six individuals who just might save the world that night. 

     “Good morning.” He said. “As you know, the World Peace Talks are being held in New York tonight.” 

     “Yes, Fury. As I am funding them, I am well aware.” Tony said, rolling his eyes. 

     “And we are all grateful for your philanthropic efforts.” Fury said, cutting Stark off and resuming his update. “This means that a large number of world leaders will be in the same place at the same time. It could not be a better chance for any combination of assassinations.”

     “That’s why we’re here.” Agent Romanov said. 

     “Exactly.” 

     “And why am I here, exactly?” Banner piped up. 

     “We want you where we can keep an eye on you.” 

     “An eye.” Banner said. “Very funny.” 

     Fury fixed Banner with his most withering stare before continuing. 

     “We’re going to split you up around town for the various functions and talks. You will be able to cover more ground that way. Your assignments will be in the dossiers I have compiled—“ Fury stopped abruptly, looking around. “Where’s the Captain?” He asked. 

     “We thought you knew.” Agent Barton said. “Figured he was already on a mission or something.” 

     “If need be,” Thor said, “I could ask Heimdall to locate him. If Captain Rogers is in peril we might be able to intervene.” 

     “That’s alright.” Natasha said, “I have a pretty good idea. I’ll grab him after the meeting and straighten him out.” The rest of the team winced, unsure of what being straightened out by Natasha consisted of, but happy not to have to find out for themselves. 

     “Thank you, Agent Romanov.” Fury went on. “As I was saying, you have your assignments. Afterward, I want you all to meet at the gala.” The glare that he sent in Tony’s direction could have put up a fight against the Iron Man suit. “ _Somebody_ decided to host a masked ball. This means all kinds of security issues, and we are going to need all hands on deck.”

     The team disbanded, each going to their assigned location with the thrill rising in them that they were about to meet a challenge.

 +++

     Agent Rumlow had defected. It was public knowledge now that his allegiance was with HYDRA.  The burns and scars from his last fight with Captain America left him looking more on his exterior as he always had inside. He found the Asset where he so often did these days: at the exhibit at the Smithsonian, staring into a familiar face.

     “We’ve done this before.” He said, putting his hand on the Asset’s shoulder and guiding him away from the display. “I know what you’re thinking right now, and I’m here to tell you that it’s not worth going down that road.” 

     “He called me a name. Bucky.” The Asset said. “I remember it. I remembered him.” 

     “Okay.” Rumlow said. 

     “You believe me?” 

     “I believe that you believe it.” He guided him away, past the aging security guard who was coming to know them as regulars. “We need to get you suited up.” He said to break the circular train of thought running through the Asset’s broken mind. 

     “What’s the mission?” The Asset asked as they walked and talked, avoiding eye contact with passersby.  

     “There’s going to be a masked ball at the Stark Mansion tonight. High profile guests. You’re going as backup, strictly as-needed.” 

    “Understood.” 

     They made their way back to headquarters, the unfinished subway station feeling like  a tomb to the Asset as he made his way underground.

+++ 

     Natasha found Steve on the bank of the Hudson, watching the river make its slow, lazy way past him. 

     “I know what you’re thinking about.” She said, nudging her shoulder with her own in a playful way. He smiled at her in greeting. 

     “Hey nat.” He said. “You usually seem to know what I’m thinking before I do.” 

     “Look, rivers are all the same when it comes right down to it. It’s just water. You get fished out of one in D.C. and I can’t seem to get you away from one in New York. Steve,” Natasha said, allowing the worry to creep across her face, “you’ve got to find a bridge.” 

     “I know,” Steve said. 

     “Did you know you missed the meeting with Fury this morning?” She asked.

     “What?” Steve asked, startled. “That’s not until…” 

     “The World Peace Talks, which are today.” Natasha finished for him.

     Steve ran a hand over his face. “I guess I’ve been kind of out of it.” 

     “I guess you have.” Natasha said. She handed him the folder with his assignment. “I peeked.” She said. “You’re just trailing the Russian Prime Minister for the day. It’s nothing you can’t manage. When that’s over, we’ve all been called to Tony’s masked ball for added security.” 

     “Damn.” 

     “Steven. Language.” Natasha said. He pushed her gently.

+++

  
     Steve followed the Prime Minister through his meetings without a hiccup, feeling his presence there without experiencing it. He wondered if this was how Bucky felt—like a fixture on the wall, rather than a person. The difference, he knew, was that he could walk away when he needed to. The difference was his freedom. He watched the handshakes and the smiles and the photo ops from a distance, feeling himself apart from the scene.  
  
     “Captain!” He heard the call. “Let’s get you in the photograph. This is an historic moment, after all.” He forced himself to smile and shake the Prime Minister’s hand. His heart was not in it. 

     When the Prime Minister was safely back in his high-security suite, provided by Stark, Steve felt himself relax. He made his way back to his own apartment in the Tower. Natasha was waiting for him, already dressed to the nines in a red and black evening gown. 

     “Do I have to wear a tux?” Steve asked, feeling that the suit he wore throughout the day’s proceedings should be more than sufficient for security detail. 

     “Oh no, Cap.” Natasha said with a grim smile. “This is a masked ball. You’re wearing a costume.” From thin air, she pulled his old Captain America suit, complete with the cowl. 

     “Where did you get that?” Steve asked.

     “It’s a replica. What? You didn’t think there are about a million of these floating around in the world now?” She said. 

     “And why don’t you have to wear a costume?” Steve asked. Natasha revealed a veil that resembled a spider web and gestured to her dress. 

     “Red and black are my signature colors.” She said simply. “The thing about spies and assassins is that we don’t tend to have highly identifiably costumes.” Steve took the red, white, and blue suit from her. 

     “Tony says to be ready in twenty. He wanted to finalize the plans and go over the layout of the hall before the guests arrive.” Natasha turned to leave, closing Steve in with his old costume and his past. Before she got to the door, she turned. 

     “Speaking of Tony—“ She began.

     “Natasha, please.” Steve interrupted her. 

     “I’m only saying,” She continued, “I noticed that you have been avoiding him since New York. If there’s anything going on between you,” She paused, taking Steve’s expression from across the room “or _not_ going on between you, that might affect the team, I feel like I should know.” 

     “Tony is a great guy.” Steve said, not meeting Natasha’s eye. 

     “No he’s not.” Natasha said. “He is a flawed guy who does great things. The point is, Steve, you two work in close quarters. You fight together, sometimes you fight with each other, and emotions run high. Don’t beat yourself up if something happens or, god forbid, you feel something.” She reached for the door before looking over her shoulder one last time. “That might be good for you, you know.” Natasha said before slipping out of the door as silently as a spider.

 +++

     The party was awash in the splendor of laughter and money and alcohol, all of which flowed in abundance. The World Peace Talks had gone off without a hitch and national leaders congratulated themselves on a job well done. Security was tight, exactly as expected for a party at Stark’s mansion, but Rumlow and the Asset found their way through a chain-link fence by the service entrance with the help of a simple pair of bolt cutters.  
  
     From there, it was nothing to find their way into the glamorous world of costumed millionaires, milling around as if they had personally saved all the earth’s innocents. The Asset watched Rumlow’s six, feeling the stiffness of his costume and resenting whoever had decided that he should go dressed as a knight. Of course, it made the metal arm easier to conceal, but the armor was treacherously difficult to maneuver.  
  
     He took a glass of champagne from a tray for show, feeling the bubbles slip down his throat, but none of the sweet relaxation that he knew the drink once brought with it. If anything, seeing the crowd around him slip further into drunken revelry made him more alert, more aware of the potential for danger. As he surveyed the crowd, he saw a familiar figure leaning against a column. Abandoning Rumlow, who was too lost in concentration to notice his absence, he crossed the room darting through the crowd in swift silent movements. When he reached it, he leaned against the column, closing his eyes.  
  
     “Captain,” He said in a voice just above a whisper, not sure if it would reach his ears above the din of the crowd.  
  
     “Bucky?” He heard the response. 

     “Don’t move. You’ll give me away.” He said, hoping that he was right about the man’s character. 

     “Are you alright?” The reply came with a waver in the voice. 

     “I am now.” He said, feeling truth in his words. 

     “Bucky, I’ve been looking for you.” The Captain, Steve—Bucky knew his name—said with desperation. 

     “I found you first.” Bucky said. He reached around the column, brushing his hand against Steve’s. His heart lurched in his chest as if it were trying to beat right out of it when Steve grabbed on to his hand and refused to let go. 

     “Who is watching?” Bucky asked. 

     “We’re clear. I’m the one who is supposed to be doing the watching.” Steve answered. Bucky gave a slight tug on Steve’s hand and pulled him around the column, spinning Steve into his arms. Bucky brought his right hand to Steve’s face, pushing the cowl up to see the memory in person and feel the warmth of him beneath his fingers. He swept his hand down his brow, across the hard line of his cheek, and slowly, carefully, drew his thumb across his lips. 

     Steve melted into the touch, hoping that this dark corner was enough cover to give him this moment. He leaned against Bucky, feeling the unforgiving armor, and gave into the temptation to tangle a hand in the dark hair that had been smoothed back so carefully for the evening. 

     Later, neither could remember who had kissed whom. All they knew was that they kissed, and it had been the strong, passionate kind of kiss that tingled on their lips for the rest of the night.


	2. Act II, Scene I - IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! I got chapter 2 finished way faster than I expected, so you get two episodes in one weekend. Chapter 3 should be up next weekend. Thank you so much for reading. You're amazing. :D

     Steve felt the softness of Bucky’s lips against his and disappeared into the kiss, forgetting everything but the way they fit together, hidden behind the column away from the party. In the moment, it was easy to pretend that the undeclared war between HYDRA and S.H.I.E.L.D. was a minor inconvenience, and that the months of searching for Bucky had been easy. He ran his hand through Bucky’s hair again, and traced the shell of his ear. Bucky pulled him closer. It would have been so easy to stay like that all night.   
Steve’s comm buzzed slightly.   
  
     “Cap? Come in. You disappeared.” He heard Hawkeye’s voice come through the earpiece. Steve broke the kiss and pressed the button to reply. 

     “Jeez, can’t a guy go to the bathroom in peace?” He asked, thinking on his feet. He didn’t care what Natasha said, he was a terrific liar. 

     “We need you back on the floor ASAP. Thor noticed some suspicious behavior, although what constitutes suspicious to Thor, I’m not exactly sure.” 

     “Okay, be there in a second.” Steve said, releasing the button, cutting off communication. 

     “They’re going to notice if I’m gone much longer.” Steve said in apology. 

     “I heard.” Bucky nodded. “I should go.” He said before pulling Steve back in for one more kiss. Steve had no time to ask questions when they parted. Bucky was already vanishing behind the column and melting into the crowd. Steve watched Bucky retreat, savoring the faint buzz where skin had touched skin. It had not been enough, but it was more than he dared to ask for. He was lightheaded and felt as drunk as the party goers when he felt the sharp blow of Natasha’s open palm on the back of his head. 

     “Was that who I think it was?” She asked in a whisper. 

     “Who?” He asked, trying to play it cool. 

     “Shit, Steve.” Natasha said. “That’s bad.” 

     “I know.” Steve said. “He’s leaving. No need to raise the alarm.” 

     “On your head be it.” Natasha said, rolling her eyes and gliding past him. “I saw nothing, for the record.” She said before drifting out of earshot.

+++

 

ACT II  


     Bucky stood outside of Stark Tower later that night, watching the glittering windows through the darkness. He had surveyed the building enough to know which windows were Steve’s. Abandoning caution, he climbed, scaling the exterior of the building with grace and ease. As he reached the floor below the one he knew to be Steve’s residence, he heard the glass door slide open and a set of bare feet pad out onto the balcony.   
  
     Bucky dropped lightly onto the balcony below, hiding in the shadows, listening to Steve’s deep breaths. Eventually, Steve let out a low, frustrated groan.   
  
     “Oh man.” Steve said. Bucky listened hard for another set of feet, or perhaps the buzz of a comm. There was nothing but Steve’s steady breathing. “Bucky…” Steve said, letting the word float into the atmosphere. Bucky opened his mouth to reply, the sharp recognition of his own name ringing in his ears. Steve went on. “Bucky, it doesn’t matter. I thought seeing you again would make everything more complicated, but it hasn’t. The way I feel about you hasn’t changed since I was a kid in Brooklyn who didn’t weigh a hundred pounds soaking wet. I’m willing to bet that somewhere in there, you feel the same way about me. If tonight is any kind of indication, at least.” Steve sighed. “What I’m saying is, we can make this work. I don’t care who I have to fight. I don’t care what you have done or where you have been, as long as you come back to me.” Bucky pulled himself over the railing of Steve’s balcony.   
  
     “Is that a promise, Stevie?” He asked.   
  
     “You do that often?” Steve asked.  
  
     “Do what?”  
  
     “Eavesdrop.”   
  
     “I wasn’t eavesdropping, you were talking to me.” Bucky said, leaning against the railing, a smile breaking through for the first time that he could remember.   
  
     “Bucky,” Steve said, suddenly serious, “What’s our plan? Can we get you out of HYDRA?”   
  
     “Let me worry about that.” Bucky said. “Right now, I want to talk about something more important.”   
  
     “What could possibly—“ Steve began, but the words were cut off by Bucky’s lips. Steve pulled Bucky closer, urging the kiss on. From inside, they heard Natasha’s voice.   
  
     “Steve?” She called. Steve broke the kiss with a remorseful look under his brow at Bucky.   
  
     “Give me a second. I’ll be right in.” He called back. He returned his lips to Bucky’s in a quick peck of apology. “When can I see you again?” He asked.   
  
     “There’s a safe house, upstate. It’s about forty-five minutes north once you get out of the city.” Bucky said, withdrawing a pen and paper from one of the dozens of pockets hidden in his clothing and scribbling the address for Steve. “Meet me there tomorrow, okay?”   
  
     “I’ll be there.”   
  
     “Steve, you’re still trying to be the stupid one. How do you know this isn’t a trap?” Bucky asked.   
  
     “You remember I’m the stupid one?” Steve asked, not bothering to conceal the smile and the warmth that the memory brought.   
  
     “How could I forget?” Bucky asked. They heard Natasha call Steve again.   
  
     “Go before she sees you.” Steve said, kissing Bucky one more time.   
  
     “As long as I’m kissing you, I don’t care if everybody in S.H.I.E.L.D. and HYDRA see me.” Bucky said, swinging one leg over the balcony, but drawing Steve back for another kiss, lingering a little longer this time.   
  
     “Go!” Steve said, laughing as they parted.   
  
     “I’ll see you tomorrow?” Bucky said again as he descended onto the balcony below.  
  
     “And the next day, and the next day.” Steve said.  
  
     “Bucky!” Steve called him back. Bucky pulled himself up so that he hung off the bars of the balcony. Steve leaned down to speak to him. “When should I meet you?”   
  
     “In the morning.” Bucky said. “How about nine?”  
  
     “Okay.” Steve said, bending down and kissing him through the bars of the railing.   
  
     “Steve!” They heard Natasha call again. Bucky disappeared from sight.

+++ 

     The safe house belonged to S.H.I.E.L.D. Bucky had been utilizing it during missions to lay low for the past few months during the upheaval. His silences were expected as he was always quiet while on missions, so it raised no alarms when communication went dead from him for a day or two.  
  
     The structure itself was nothing much, a small two bedroom in a developing suburb. From the outside, a casual observer would never suspect the bunker underneath or the stockpile of food and weapons suitable to sustain up to twelve people for several months.   
  
     He walked through the front door without setting off any alarms, the small brass key sitting comfortably in his hand like an old friend. In the modern and well-furnished living room sat the agent who first contacted him about the use of this safe house as well as other S.H.I.E.L.D. resources. He smiled at Bucky when he entered.   
  
     “Good morning, Agent Coulson.” Bucky said, placing his duffel bag down by the front door.  
  
     “Good morning, Barnes. It’s good to see you.” He said, his voice smooth and even, eyes scanning Bucky’s posture and expression for signs of violence or mental anguish.   
  
     “How are you today?”   
  
     “I’m much better.” Bucky said. “I did what you said, I talked to Steve.”   
  
     “You did?” Agent Coulson asked, unable to mask his surprise. “When?”   
  
     “Last night. I was at the party at Stark’s. You were right, it was okay. You know him pretty well, I guess.”   
  
     “I like to think so.” Agent Coulson said with a shrug. “Barnes, I hope you’re taking care. Talking to Steve is a big step.”   
  
     “We did more than talk.” Bucky said before he could push the words back down. Coulson’s eyebrows shot straight up.   
  
     “Really?”  
  
     “We just kissed. Don’t get too excited.”   
  
     “I’m only concerned that this is moving awfully fast. You are still piecing together your past, figuring out where he fits in your future.” Agent Coulson said, nodding slowly.   
  
     “Have more of your memories surfaced?” He asked.  
  
     “I have most of the time before the war.” _The important stuff_ , Bucky thought. “I’m doing a good job of blocking the Winter Soldier stuff between the fall and when I caught up with Steve this year.” He said, ruminating on whether this was a good thing or a bad thing. He would avoid the painful memories of what he knew he must have done for as long as he could. “You still haven’t reported our meetings, have you?”   
  
     “I’m giving you a grace period to sort things out.” Coulson said. “S.H.I.E.L.D. won’t know about any of this until you officially defect.”   
  
     “Thank you.” Bucky said. “Steve is coming here to talk things out.”   
  
     “When?” Coulson asked.  
  
     “In an hour or so. You might want to clear out if you don’t want him to know you’re involved.”   
  
      “I will. Remember, take this slow.” Coulson said before heading toward the door.

+++

  
     Bucky paced around the room like a caged tiger while he waited. At exactly 9:00, he heard a rapid, precise knock on the door. A glance through the peep hole revealed the crimson hair and stern face of Natalia Romanova, not Steve. He swallowed the lump that formed in his throat and opened the door despite the misgivings forming in his mind.   
Natalia’s forearm pressed against his neck, pushing him back against the wall, pinning him there. It was a bold stance for a woman was not half his weight and stood a head shorter than him, but he did not fight back.   
  
     “What do you want with Steve?” She asked, her face cold and impassive, but with fire in her voice.   
  
     “That’s a big question. Do you want the sappy answer or the dirty one?” He replied. Natasha’s arm relaxed, her face breaking into what might have been a smile, but she did not let him go.   
  
     “Where are your loyalties? HYDRA or S.H.I.E.L.D.?” She asked.   
  
     “You mean the faceless Nazi organization that tortured and brainwashed me for decades or the faceless government organization that allowed HYDRA to become a threat again by turning a blind eye? Oh yeah, I think they’re both great.” Bucky said, rolling his eyes. “I’m surprised at you for asking that question, Natalia. You’re smarter than that.” Natasha gave a satisfied nod of her head and put her arm down, letting him breathe.   
  
     “Okay. Let’s hear what you have to say.” She said.   
  
     “My loyalties are with Steve.” He said simply. “Where is he?” He asked.  
  
     “He got called into a meeting. Sent me so you would know he hadn’t bailed.”   
  
     “Thanks” Bucky said, “for letting me know, I mean.”   
  
     “I did it for Steve. I’ll let you know when you’ve earned favors from me.” She said.   
  
     “I have a favor to ask you, so I hope you’ll do one for me on credit.” Bucky said.   
  
     “What is it?” Natasha asked.   
  
     “Tell Steve to meet me here today, this afternoon, when his meeting is over. I need to see him.” Bucky said. Natasha looked around the house.   
  
     “This is a S.H.I.E.L.D. safe house.” She said. “How did you get in?”   
  
     “I have a contact. Is that going to work in my favor?”   
  
     “Depends. Who is it?”   
  
     “I don’t want to blow his cover.” Bucky said, running a hand through his hair.   
  
     “It’s Coulson.” Natasha said. Bucky’s eyes grew wide at her accuracy.    
  
     “How—“   
  
     “Obvious.” She said, shrugging the question off. “But if Coulson thinks you’re a safe bet, then I’ll do it.” She said. Natasha left Bucky with the feeling that she was becoming entangled in a web that she was not responsible for weaving. It was a feeling that she tried to avoid at all costs.


	3. Act II, Scene V - Act III, Scene I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am bringing in a lot of elements from Marvel Civil War, which might have some spoilers for Cap 3 if you haven't read the comics. There is going to be a TON of canon divergence to make the two stories fit together smoothly, but I figured I would give everybody a heads up that the story is moving that way.   
> Also changed the rating to Mature for some darker themes, violence, and potential sexytimes.   
> As always, thank you for reading. You are a majestic and wonderful person.

Natasha was waiting in Steve’s apartment when he returned from his meeting. As desperately as he wished he could abandon his responsibilities and run to the address Bucky gave him the night before—the one on the piece of paper still tucked safely in his pocket—he couldn’t up and leave when things were such a mess. 

Seeing Bucky again brought his desire to destroy HYDRA to new heights. Knowing that there was hope of getting him back brought out a crazed, wild side of Steve that he had not let out since his scrappy days of fighting every bully he could find in unpaved back alleys. It was with this same kind of manic energy that he found Natasha that morning. 

“Did you see him?” Steve asked, forgetting all about pleasantries in his desire to hear the news about Bucky.

“He’s hard to miss with the shiny metal arm.” Natasha said. 

“What did he say?” Steve asked. 

“He said a lot of stuff.” Natasha said. “Hey, you want breakfast? I think I want breakfast. Let’s order something, omelets, maybe.” She said. 

“Nat,” Steve groaned, flopping onto the couch next to her. “I’m asking you about something serious.”

“Well so am I.” Natasha said, “I’m starving. JARVIS,” She said, addressing the computerized butler that they had all become so accustomed to, “Have the kitchen send up something to eat. Breakfast stuff.” When the courteous and professional assurance that food was on its way did nothing to lighten the weight of Steve’s stare, Natasha knew she had to respond. 

“Fine, Steve.” Natasha said, settling onto the couch next to him. “He’s okay. A little disappointed that it was me at the door and not you, but otherwise everything was rosy.”   
“And what did he say?” 

“I’m getting to that. Slow down, will you?” Natasha rolled her eyes. “He still wants you to go to the address. It is safe. I checked it out for you.” She said, anticipating Steve’s thoughts, or rather what would have been Steve’s thoughts—shrewd and level-headed—if Bucky Barnes were not involved. The more Natasha thought about it, the more she realized that Steve needed somebody looking out for him, doing things like perimeter searches for this case because he was well and truly compromised. 

“The house is a S.H.I.E.L.D. property.” She continued. This garnered a raised eyebrow from Steve. 

“He’s meeting me on my ground, then?” Steve asked. 

“Something like that.” Natasha said. “Look, I know you’re practically out the door already and I am going to have to eat breakfast on my own, but will you do me a favor before you head out there?”

“Sure.” Steve said. “What do you need?” 

“Talk to Coulson first. You don’t have to tell him what you are up to or who you are going to see, just go talk to him for a second.” She said, registering the downward turn of his mouth. “This is good intel, Steve.” She said, abandoning the tone that she used only in the company of her friends and instead employing the voice that she used on missions. It worked.

“JARVIS, is Agent Coulson in the building?” 

“Yes sir.” came the affirmative. 

“Okay. Thanks.” Steve said, both to JARVIS and Natasha before leaving to find Coulson. 

+++

 

Steve found the Agent on the elevator, standing quietly with his hands folded together over the handle of his briefcase. 

“Heading out?” Steve asked. 

“That’s right, Captain.” Coulson replied. The elevator descended the rest of the way in the familiar, eternally uncomfortable silence that elevators always provoke. As they reached the ground floor and made their way toward the exit, the coffee kiosk caught Coulson’s eye. “If you have a second, Cap, can I buy you a cup of coffee?” Coulson asked. 

“Sure.” Steve said, “but you’ve got to start calling me Steve.” 

With hot cups of coffee in their hands, they exited Stark Tower and made their way toward no particular destination, enjoying the luxury of the anonymity that the streets of New York provided. 

“What’s on your mind, Steve?” Coulson asked. “You’re looking a little lost in thought.” 

“I’m thinking about HYDRA captives.” Steve said. “How do you think S.H.I.E.L.D. plans on dealing with the HYDRA operatives who were forced into it through blackmail or…” He drifted into silence, unsure of how to describe Bucky’s situation without revealing exactly who he had been thinking about. 

“Steve, we all know that James Buchanan Barnes is a good man who has been made to do bad things. He will be treated fairly when the time comes.” 

“Thank you,” Steve said, feeling the tension he had not been aware he was carrying in his back and shoulders relax, “for the coffee and everything. I have a meeting.” Steve excused himself.

+++

 

The bike rumbled to a stop as Steve pulled into the driveway of a quiet suburban home. He double-checked the address in the familiar chicken-scratch handwriting. No, this was definitely it. Steve rang the doorbell and stepped back a respectful distance before a metal arm reached out and pulled him into the house. 

“Jesus, Bucky.” Steve said, getting his bearings on the landing and looking around. “you’ve domesticated quite a bit since the last time I saw you.” 

“It’s not mine.” Bucky said. “And come on, we need to talk.” 

“Not sure I like where that’s going.” Steve muttered under his breath as he followed Bucky down a flight of stairs to the basement. 

There was a basement below the basement, a bunker, to be exact, lined with cans upon cans of food that could keep until kingdom come, and packed with an arsenal. Steve’s eyes lit up when he saw the place.

“Boy, that’s more like it.” He said, shaking his head.” He leaned over to examine the lid of an industrial sized can of beans. The label read Desert Strom on it in block letters. “How long has this stuff been down here, Buck?” He asked. 

“Who knows? It’s S.H.I.E.L.D., so I figure they’ve been stockpiling for as long as the place has been standing.” Bucky said, not bothering to look around. Steve had the impression that he had been here long enough to no longer feel overwhelmed by the well-crafted survivability of the place. “Anyway, that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.” 

Bucky said, placing a hand on Steve’s chest and stepping closer to him so that their faces were only inches apart. His hand twisted into a fist, pulling Steve toward him. Their lips crashed together. Steve kissed Bucky back with a ferocity he did not know he had in him. They parted after minutes, their breathing shallow and quick, lips swollen, eyes glazed. 

“I don’t know if anybody ever told you, but that’s not talking, Bucky.” Steve said. 

“Oh, did I say I wanted to talk?” Bucky said, pulling Steve toward the beds, lined up in neat rows along the far wall. “’Cause I really meant another thing.” The bed was hard and unforgiving when Steve and Bucky fell onto it together. It was familiar and Steve liked it. He liked the way Bucky’s hands ran along the lines of his hipbones and worked at his belt more. Their lips reconnected. 

For a moment, they wondered if they could ignore the piercing tone of Steve’s emergency phone when it sounded from his pocket. The earsplitting note grated on their ears like exposed nerves as it blasted again, shattering the moment. 

“I’ve got to.” Steve said. Bucky nodded, head sinking onto Steve’s chest as Steve extracted the phone from his pocket. 

EXPLOSION IN TIMES SQUARE. SUSPECTED HYDRA INVOLVEMENT. ALL AVAILABLE AGENTS REPORT ASAP. 

Steve kissed the top of Bucky’s head before he stood up. 

“After this gets cleaned up, find me. We’ll finish what we started here, okay?” Steve asked. Bucky rolled onto his back, watching Steve become Captain America. He remembered this scene from before, remembered watching Steve psych himself up to go out and lead. It had not changed. 

“If you say so, Cap.” 

“I do.” Steve said. Bucky tucked the words away in his heart. 

“I’ll see you in a couple of hours.” Bucky said, rising to place one last, chaste kiss on Steve’s lips. 

+++

 

Steve had never seen Tony Stark look so grim. They evacuated the walking wounded, moved the dead, directed the hysterical bystanders to safe waiting spaces. Steve wondered if there was such thing as safe. Later, it would be reported that HYDRA had not been involved. It had been a superpower gone awry—a malfunction—a kid who didn’t know what they were doing. Whatever happened, a lot of people were dead. 

Steve watched the scene as if in a trance, feeling himself in the space between his mind and his body, lost but moving and speaking all the same. Bucky, he thought, just a few more hours. I’ll find Bucky. It will be okay. He fought to keep himself from falling into the cavity that opened up, reminding him that this was so much bigger than the two of them, and that none of this would be okay for a very long time. 

+++

 

Bucky’s fingers twitched on the mattress after Steve left, he kicked off his boots and wandered around the Bunker, wondering what he would do with himself until the time came to find Steve. Bucky was good at waiting. Decades in a frozen coffin, stored away until he could be useful, taught him the value of patience. So he waited. 

After seven or eight hours, he heard the sounds of movement above him. One set of feet, heavy on the floor, taking casual steps. Steve. He thought, feeling the heavy weight in his chest subside, replaced by a lightness that he only knew in his company. He tied the laces of his boots and made his way upstairs, through the double basements, running a hand through his hair and cursing the lack of a mirror in the space. 

He opened the door and felt himself go numb. The thoughts raced through him, he could beg for mercy or lie. Bucky could act as if he were working reconnaissance, and that he had not been living in this space for months, but he was not trained to uphold a lie. It wouldn’t play out in his favor. Especially not against the man staring him down from across the room. Bucky stared into the face of Brock Rumlow and knew that he had to make a choice. 

“For a slimy, lying, rat bastard, you do have friends in high places.” Rumlow said, taking a look around the house. 

“Hello, Rumlow.” Bucky said, watching his hands. Rumlow was not holding his gun. Not yet, anyway.

“How long, Soldier?” Rumlow asked. Bucky remained silent, counting Rumlow’s breaths from across the room. They were fast, and the pace was increasing. He was revving up. “How long have you been a traitor?” 

“Since HYDRA made me one.” Bucky said, keeping his voice calm and level. He felt the weight of his arm, the single gun that he carried, the four knives tucked away on his person. Rumlow ran at him. 

Bucky knew this fight, had fought this pattern with Rumlow enough times in the practice ring to know what this meant. Rumlow aimed to capture, not to kill. He was going to take Bucky back to HYDRA, to become the Asset again, to be the Soldier and nothing else. 

The knowledge spurred Bucky into a frenzy. He could not go back, not when there was Steve waiting out there somewhere. He had his memories—some of them, at least—good memories of laughter and dancing and freezing in the winter but not in cryogenic chambers and he would not allow them to be ripped from his mind again by the cruel machines and the people who wielded them. 

In the scramble of limbs: punches, kicks and desperate grappling, Bucky reached for Rumlow’s gun, still in the holster. He twisted in Rumlow’s arms, taking the gun with him, aimed and pulled the trigger. The bullet found its way into Brock Rumlow’s heart and he fought no more.


	4. Unscheduled Intermission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sex!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Thanksgiving.  
> There is some character development here if you squint, but I promise, our regularly scheduled plot will resume this weekend.

      Bucky called Coulson, bringing the phone to his ear with shaking hands.   
  
      “Hello?” Coulson’s voice was paper thin, careful and stressed. Bucky heard a chaotic symphony of sirens and voices in the background.   
  
      “He’s dead.” Bucky said, his voice cracking.   
  
      “No. The Captain is fine.” Agent Coulson said, keeping his tone on the distant side of professional.   
  
      “Brock Rumlow. I killed him. The body is at the safe house. I don’t know if he told anybody else he was coming here tonight.”   
  
      Coulson took his time in responding. If it weren’t for the static of police radios in the background, Bucky would wonder if the call had been dropped. Eventually Coulson replied in measured words.  “You should relocate. Our mutual friend will be expecting you. I will send somebody to take care of the house.”   
  
      “Thanks.” Bucky said  
  
      “Not a problem.” He heard Coulson say before silence enveloped the line, signaling the end of the call. Bucky left the house without looking back at the body.

+++

  
      Steve sat on the couch in his apartment, unable to contain the anxious tapping of his feet or the way his eyes constantly drifted toward the sliding doors and the balcony as he waited. It had been a long, terrible day. The worst disaster, people were saying, in living memory. Already, calls were going up around the nation for a response from the government, from the military—but how? How do you militarize a response to an accident?  
  
      Steve tried to pull his thoughts away from the subject again, feeling as if the disaster would swallow him up. He leaned his head back and thought about Bucky. Thinking about Bucky did little to calm his nerves; it only served to redirect them. Their interrupted meeting earlier that day had left a fire in his chest that he could not put out, that he was not sure he wanted to put out.  
  
      He remembered the days before all of this. Their lives had never been simple, it would have been unfair to their past to call it that, but they had had a different kind of complexity. There had been no war yet, no serums, no memories to be regained, and certainly no superheroes to fight with or against. At the time, there had only been two boys in Brooklyn with hardly a cent to their names and even less common sense. Even in those days, in the days that felt like a different lifetime now, Steve felt this way when he waited for Bucky to come home.

+++

  
      Steve saw Bucky clamber over the railing of the balcony and rushed to open the door.   
   
      “Are you okay?” Steve asked, watching Bucky regain his footing. His face was almost expressionless, except for the deadened look around the eyes. Steve knew that look. He found Bucky with that look on a lab table in 1943.   
  
      “I am.” He said, swallowing air in a deep breath before continuing. “Rumlow’s dead.” Bucky said.   
  
      “Come inside.” Steve said, ushering Bucky past him into what he hoped was safety. He retrieved a bottle of water from the kitchen, placed it on the coffee table for Bucky, and joined him on the couch. “Tell me what happened.” Steve said. Bucky shook his head.   
  
      “Don’t want to talk.” Bucky said, leaning forward. He pressed his lips to Steve’s, smothering the words that might have come out.   
  
      “What do you want, Buck?” Steve asked.   
  
      “Just you.” Bucky said, reclining and pulling Steve along to settle above him. “You promised we would finish what we started in the bunker. Everybody knows Captain America keeps his promises.” Bucky said with the faintest trace of a smile as he resumed the kiss. Steve followed his lead, allowing himself to be led onto the couch. He steadied himself above Bucky, aware of every place where their bodies met as if they were electrified.   
  
      Steve could feel his restraint slipping. He groaned into the kiss when Bucky rolled his hips, grasping Steve’s torso, twisting their legs together. Bucky’s kisses traveled from Steve’s lips to his jaw, then to his ear. Steve inhaled in a sharp gasp when the heat of Bucky’s mouth sealed around his earlobe, the sensation traveling through his body as fast as lightning, striking deep in his stomach. Playfully, without using strength, Steve pushed Bucky away, back into the cushions of the couch, disconnecting his lips momentarily so that Steve could remove his shirt. Bucky watched with ravenous eyes, drinking in the sight.   
  
      Bucky stared up at Steve, lips parted and eyes bright. Steve felt worry spring to life in him at the look of confusion on Bucky’s face, but as their eyes met he realized that what he saw was not confusion at all—it was wonder. Bucky reached his human hand toward Steve’s chest, his fingers caressing Steve’s left side.   
  
      “One of them didn’t fit right, remember?” Bucky asked.  
  
      “What are you talking about, Bucky?” Steve said, the worry creeping back.   
  
      “We were about twelve, thirteen maybe. Charlie Horowitz and his friends were trying to tie firecrackers to a cat and you told them where to go. I guess it worked, because they left the cat alone, but they kicked the snot out of you. By the time I heard the yelling and came to see what happened you were all bloody.” Bucky ran a hand through Steve’s hair. The gesture was protective, comforting, almost as if he were still patching Steve up from the fight. “The doc said you broke your rib. It never healed right. Sometimes, even years later, when you would get sick, you would cough the thing out of place—just cough so hard that your rib would go funny—and then all night you would cough and your rib would click, and I wouldn’t get any sleep.” Bucky finished reminiscing with a kiss to Steve’s torso, over Steve’s ribcage on the left side. “I bet it doesn’t do that anymore.”  
  
      Steve was frozen in place, trapped by the memory, breathing in the details that his mind had discarded so long ago. “How much do you remember?” Steve asked.   
  
      “Not all of it.” Bucky shook his head. “I remember when we were kids, and being with you. The war, a little. I don’t remember what comes next.” The rush of gratitude that Steve felt drove him into Bucky’s arms. He pressed himself into Bucky, aligning their bodies, filling in all the gaps so that they occupied as much of the same space as they could manage. Steve kissed Bucky with renewed passion, throwing himself into it the way he threw his shield, with commitment and intention.   
  
      “I feel like I got you back all over again.” Steve said.   
  
      “I’m with you.” Bucky said, drawing Steve back to him with a hand on the back of his neck. Using the strength of his bionic arm, Bucky flipped them so that he rested above Steve. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, he dragged himself down the body beneath him, taking in every inch of perfection that was Steve. He reached the line of his belt and met the challenge with the same slow determination, undoing the buckle while looking directly into Steve’s eyes, watching the reaction that each of his movements earned.   
  
      With eyes the size of saucers, Steve watched Bucky’s actions, willing himself to believe that they were really happening. He felt the warmth of Bucky’s right hand brush over the taut bulge of his trousers and heard the whine leave his throat without conscious thought. The hand remained there, heavy and firm, but not enough. Cool air replaced the warmth of Bucky’s hand when the belt buckle was undone and the zipper pulled down at a torturously slow pace.   
  
      “C’mon. Please.” Steve said.  
  
      “Please what, Stevie?” Bucky asked, the corner of his lips turning up in a devilish smirk.   
  
      “Anything. Anything you want. Just” Steve looked down at himself, exposed under Bucky’s smile and his head fell back against the cushions, unable to watch anymore “please.” He said again.   
  
      Bucky’s smile spread across his face. Watching Steve come apart was almost as fun as what came next. He bent his head lower and breathed deep, inhaling the musky smell. He pushed Steve’s pants down farther, kissing his thighs on the way back up, brushing his hands against them and feeling the muscles quiver. When his lips finally closed against the head of Steve’s cock, he heard the reaction from above him. The moan in the shape of his name spurred him on. Bucky took in as much of Steve as he could, tonguing gently at the sensitive underside, careful not to overload Steve’s senses just yet. That would come later.   
  
      Steve’s legs wound their way around Bucky’s shoulders, holding him in place while his head bobbed mercilessly. He fought the urge to tangle his fingers into Bucky’s hair and direct his movements, managing to keep his hands to himself. “Buck.” Steve said, leaning forward. As he did, he caught sight of Bucky’s performance, the way his eyes sought Steve’s from his position farther down on the couch, the disheveled way his hair fell into his eyes as his head moved up and down along—oh god, Steve thought, as he watched Bucky’s mouth moving along his shaft in a perfect, persistent rhythm. The visual impact was too much.   
  
     “Bucky, you’ve gotta…” Steve said in warning. “Buck, I’m…” Steve could see the mischief in Bucky’s eyes as he continued the unrelenting pace, hand and mouth working in tandem. The sound that Steve made when he came was no language that Bucky had ever heard, but he understood the taste. Steve fell back against the cushions again, his heart hammering against his ribcage. He blinked slowly, jaw slack, recovering from the assault on his senses. Bucky slid into his arms, a triumphant expression on his face, and kissed the hollow of his throat, his jaw. Steve turned and captured Bucky’s mouth, drawing him in, deepening the kiss.   
  
      “Let’s go to bed.” He said. The smirk returned to Bucky’s face.   
  
      “But I’m not tired.”   
  
      “Who said anything about being tired?” Steve laughed.

 +++

      Steve and Bucky drifted into consciousness in the same moment. Their eyelashes sticky with sleep clung to themselves in the morning half-light.   
  
      “Hey, you.” Steve said in a voice barely above a whisper, inches away from Bucky, who made lazy circles on Steve’s upper arm with his thumb under the sheet.   
  
      “’Morning.” Bucky said, pulling Steve in for a kiss. When they parted, Bucky laughed and gave Steve’s shoulder a shove. “I want to know how it is that after all these years, even in a bed this big, you take up the whole damn thing.” Bucky said.   
  
      “Well,” Steve said, “It is my bed.”   
  
      “Not just your bed if I have anything to say about it.” Bucky said, rolling onto his back.  
  
      “You want to move in?” Steve asked.  
  
      “It can be like when we were kids.” Bucky said, smiling at Steve.   
  
      “It can be better. The spare key is yours.” Steve returned Bucky’s smile until he heard the buzz of his phone. He groaned and sat up, hanging his legs over the side of the bed.   
  
      “Hello?” He answered.  
  
      “Bucky there?” Natasha asked.  
  
       “Why? Are you calling to chat?” Steve asked. He could hear his annoyance leaking through in his tone.   
  
       “Good. We’ll be there in five.” Natasha said. The line went dead. Steve huffed and fell back onto the pillows.   
  
      “What’s wrong?” Bucky asked.   
  
      “Natasha.” Steve answered, simply.   
  
      “I bet I can make you forget all about it” Bucky said with a wicked grin, kissing Steve’s neck.   
  
      “No, we’ve got five minutes.”   
  
      “Sounds like a challenge.” Bucky said, laughing.   
  
      “I’m serious, Buck.” Steve said, placing his hands gently on Bucky’s shoulders and pushing him off. He kissed the frown away from Bucky’s lips. “Later.” He promised.


	5. Act III, Scene II-V

      Natasha arrived with Coulson in tow exactly five minutes after her phone call. They let themselves in, making more noise with the front door than they generally found necessary. Natasha called ahead into the silence of the apartment.   
  
      “Steve?” In answer, he made his way into the living room, feeling less than comforted by the determined set of Natasha’s jaw.

"What’s wrong?” 

     “We have some news. Wanted to bring it to you before the meeting today so you know what kind of talks are in motion.” Coulson said, taking a seat. “Where is Bucky?” He asked, looking around.

      “In the shower.” Steve answered, “What’s the news, Coulson. Have there been more accidents?” 

       “It wasn’t an accident.” Natasha said. “The blast in Times Square was intentional. It was a capture op that went sour. The public can’t know this, because it already looks bad enough as it is.” She said in a hushed, conspiratorial tone. Steve nodded. That did look bad, almost as bad as lying to the public. 

       “There’s more.” Coulson said. “There is a new bill in the works—“

       “—Already?” Steve asked. “Overnight?” 

       “You know how these things happen, Cap.” Coulson said. “We want superheroes to register themselves. No more running around in costumes. Something like this happens again, we want to know who is responding.” Coulson said. Steve mulled the thought over, shaking his head. 

      “You’re already saying ‘We’, huh?” He asked. Steve turned his attention to Natasha. “What about you? Do you support it?” 

      “The government demands that I blow my cover and put my name on a list?” Natasha said. “What do you think?” They each turned in their seats as they heard the bathroom door shut. The sounds of Bucky’s footsteps alerted them to his arrival just before he turned the corner into the living room and made his way over to the space on the couch next to Steve in silence. 

       “Don’t decide now.” Coulson said. “There is a lot more to it. Stark has a better handle on the specifics. We just wanted to let you know what you’re in for today.” Steve nodded, feeling the weight of the information press in on him, already feeling trapped by the bill and what it could mean.

      “Thanks.” He said, nodding. “What about Bucky?” He asked, changing the subject. 

     “It is getting hot out there.” Natasha said. “Nobody can know he is here.” 

      “Actually,” Coulson said, looking around the apartment, “We need to get him out of here as soon as we can. We can only spin the ‘long-lost friend’ angle from a P.R. perspective for so long. If Cap’s harboring a HYDRA fugitive in his house, right under the nose of the Avengers and S.H.I.E.L.D., things are going to get ugly.” 

      “What did you call me?” Bucky finally spoke up. His tone was light, but Steve saw the ice behind his eyes. 

      “It’s not what I think.” Coulson said. “It’s what the public is going the think. We have to get you out of here and somewhere safe—for you and for Steve—until this blows over.” Steve expected a fight. He imagined Bucky lashing out in all the ways that Steve wished he could. He did not expect for Bucky to go quietly. The way Bucky nodded hit Steve harder than any right hook ever had. Natasha took her phone from her pocket.

       “We should go.” She said, tapping the screen.   
  
       “Will you wait here?” Steve asked Bucky, already sure of the answer. Bucky shook his head. 

       “Naw, I’ll get out of here while you’re out.” He said, giving Steve a peck on the lips. “Easier.” He said, quietly. Steve willed himself to ignore Natasha and Coulson sitting just feet away from them. If they noticed the exchange, they gave no sign of it. Steve pulled himself back together as well as he could, pulling on the façade of a strong leader in the same way that he used to pull on the cowl of his costume. 

       “I’ll see you later, jerk.” He said, smiling. 

       “Yeah.” Bucky said. “Later, punk.” He crossed his arms and reclined against the armrest, watching Steve, Natasha, and Agent Coulson rise and leave. It was only after he was alone did he allow himself to look as lost as he felt.

—Meanwhile—

 

      Nick Fury sat in his office, glowering at the air particles in front of him, while he ruminated over the mess that was the past forty-eight hours. The explosion had destroyed not only a massive commercial block in New York and thousands of lives, it had also decimated the faith that people once had in superheroes to protect them. It was not a HYDRA move, but it worked in their favor, and that could not stand. Fury needed to win that trust back. Tony Stark stepped into the room without the usual jovial spring in his step. The grey circles under his eyes spoke before he did. He sank into the overstuffed armchair, rubbing his temples. 

      “Sleep well?” Fury asked. 

       “Better than you, I bet.” Stark replied. “What’s our next move?”

      “If you can put the full weight of Stark Inc. behind the bill, we can start making moves to register superheroes as soon as possible.” 

      “Consider it done.” Stark said, nodding. “I want Cap to be the first registered hero. Steve Rogers, I mean. It will be symbolic, you know.” 

      “I was figuring something along the same lines. He might not be too thrilled. He doesn’t wax very nostalgic about his days making propaganda films for the war effort. What makes you think he will get behind this?” Fury asked. 

       “It’s this or HYDRA; order or chaos. Make it black or white. There isn’t a choice.” Stark said. Fury looked Stark over with a new appreciation, exhaling a slow breath. “What?” Stark asked, alarmed.

      “Are you sure you didn’t mean to pursue a career in politics?”   


+++

  
      Steve tensed the moment he saw Tony Stark’s smile when he walked into the meeting. He knew Stark well enough to know that the smile he wore was not genuine. He wanted something.   
  
      “If it isn’t the man of the hour.” Tony said, with none of the typical sarcasm that Steve would have expected. “You here to save our asses? Make us look respectable?” He asked. There was no bite to his words. Steve felt like something was missing. It felt like being lied to.   
  
      “I doubt anything I could do would make you look respectable, Stark.” Steve replied with his own smile. He played along although it felt wrong not to cut through the forced pleasantries.   
  
      “Let’s make this meeting short, shall we?” Fury asked. Everyone sat, the chatter died around them.   
  
      “Alright. Short meeting.” Steve said, bracing himself. “I don’t like the sound of the bill and I won’t register if it comes to that.” He announced in his strongest voice. Steve expected an uproar. He expected to be scolded. He expected anything more than the icy silence from the other side of the table. After what felt like an eternity, Fury finally spoke.   
  
      “I don’t think you understand the situation, Captain.” He said, each of his words clear and precise. “This is not optional. Superheroes must register once the bill is passed.”   
  
      “Then don’t let it pass.” Steve said, addressing Tony. 

      “Come on, Cap. Don’t let your dated idealism mess this up—mess up the team. You’re putting everything in jeopardy and for what? Some notion of nobility? It’s selfish.” Stark said, the grating, self-assured tone returning to his voice with every word. It drove Steve to his feet. Stark rose as well until they stood over the table, staring daggers at each other. “It isn’t about you.” He went on. “Anti-super opinion is gaining ground all over the country. The Human Torch was attacked last night by a mob, and you’re shrugging this off like it’s no big deal.”   
  
      “Right, Tony. It is a big deal. You know what happens when certain groups of people are asked to register themselves? No, you don’t, because you didn’t live through it, but I did. I read about it in the papers back before the war broke out and this is how it starts.” Steve said. His fingers flexing instinctively, itching for his shield. “If you really want to know how it ends, have a chat with Magneto. He had a first-hand experience with registration and everything that comes afterward.”  
  
      Stark turned over his shoulder toward Fury and said in a lower, more sardonic tone “Didn’t I tell you he was going to play the Veteran Card? The World War II Card? Bingo.”   
Later, Steve would honestly swear that Tony Stark’s face ran into Steve’s fist, and that he had no memory of punching him at all.

+++ 

      “That was stupid.” Natasha said. Steve shook out his fist and stretched his fingers as they walked down the hall together. The meeting might not have been officially declared over, but it was at an end of them. “We haven’t heard the end of this just because you punched Tony in the face. Not that anybody could blame you. We’ve all wanted to do that at some point.” She said, tagging along as Steve jabbed at the button on the elevator. “All I’m saying is, eventually they are going to want an answer from you.”   
  
      “I already gave them my answer.” Steve said.  
  
      “It wasn’t the answer they were looking for.” She said. “You might be able to do some good with this.” Natasha tried switching tactics as they boarded the elevator.  
  
      “Weren’t you the one who was moping about the government telling you to blow your cover just this morning?” Steve asked.  
  
      “I am good at sensing how the tide is turning.” Natasha said. “Better adjust your views if you want to stay afloat.”   
  
      “You’re struggling with that metaphor.” Steve said.  
  
      “I’m an assassin, not a poet.” Natasha said, rolling her eyes. The bell chimed at Steve’s floor. “This is where I leave you.” She said, leaning against the wall, watching him exit. 

      “Say goodbye to him for me.” She said under her breath, as the elevator doors closed to block Steve from view.

 +++

       Steve found the lights on when he entered his apartment. He felt the pace of his pulse increase in his veins as he strode through the hall toward his room, feeling a faint glimmer of hope. The rational side of his mind knew that Bucky would be gone already, something about sparing them a long goodbye. The stronger side of Steve, the side that ruled his heart, allowed him to hope that Bucky would be sitting right where Steve found him.   
  
      He was at the foot of Steve’s bed, feet dangling off of the edge, head bowed into two mismatched, supportive hands. He did not look up when Steve entered the room, but the shoulders that had been hunched in an arch of tension released their burden of stress as he drew near.   
  
      “You’re still here.” Steve said, his breath hardly coming to him as he watched Bucky, afraid that any sudden movement might scare him away and send him off into the night.   
  
      “I couldn’t leave my best guy.” Bucky said, smiling up at Steve. Steve extended a hand and helped Bucky to his feet. Pulling him close, they stepped into a wordless embrace and the rest of the world and all of its problems melted away.  
  
      “What are we going to do, Buck?” Steve asked, breathing the question into his ear. Bucky stepped closer, so that their bodies pressed together with no space in between. He rolled his hips and slid his hands slowly down Steve’s sides pulling him in, walking them backward toward the bed.   
  
      “I have a few ideas.” Bucky said. Steve laughed, low and sweet.   
  
      “That’s a good start.” He said.   



	6. Another Intermission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sex!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit, guys. I was trying to write you some cute, fluffy, Shakespeare-inspired fic and I ended up writing porn.   
> If I do say so, myself, I believe the Bard would be proud. After all, what is Romeo and Juliet if not a play full of dick jokes, about two teenagers who have only known each other for four days and get married anyway because they want to get it on? Yeah. Shakespeare would approve. 
> 
> Anyway. The rating goes up again.   
> We will return you to your regularly scheduled plot next chapter. Enjoy!

      Bucky should have gone already, Steve thought as he ran his hands though the dark mane of hair, clutching the two of them together with every ounce of desperation he possessed. The chill of the metal arm and hand against his skin, only a few degrees cooler than his own, served to ground him as they moved in concert together across the room toward the bed. Somehow, Steve felt safety in Bucky’s arms, as if they could block out all the chaos surrounding them. He wondered if Bucky felt the same.   
  
      They kissed instead of speaking, communicating wordlessly, throwing themselves into the touch like a battle. Steve managed to breath out the request before his brain shut it down.   
   
      “Spend the night with me.” He said, the words wafting against Bucky’s lips as little more than breath, “Just one more night.” He said. He felt Bucky nod as he closed the distance again, felt Bucky smile against his lips. He did not know if it was relief or terror that he felt more strongly, all Steve knew was that he wanted to feel Bucky—for him to block everything else out.   
  
      When they reached the bed, the back of Steve’s knees collided with it, sending him sprawling on his back. Bucky crawled over him like a predator, savoring the moment. He leaned back on his haunches, watching Steve from his vantage point above as he slowly removed the shirt he had been wearing. Steve noticed with some degree of hazy distance that the shirt belonged to him. He knew he would not be able to wear it in the days to come without recalling the way that Bucky peeled it off of himself in this moment, and the way Steve’s mouth went dry when he watched the inches of bare torso and chest as they were revealed.   
  
      Bucky watched with a look that seemed to say “your move,” when the shirt landed somewhere offstage. Steve felt smothered by so many layers of clothing. With deft fingers, he slipped each button while keeping careful eye contact with Bucky. Leaning up to steal a kiss that left him gasping, he removed the shirt, bringing his undershirt over his head when they parted.   
  
      “This is taking too long.” Bucky said, rolling his eyes and stepping out of his pants so quickly that Steve might have missed the action. “It will be tomorrow if we don’t get a move on.” He said, grabbing Steve by the hips and pulling him down the bed toward him. He undid the button of Steve’s pants and then raised an eyebrow, ducking his head to pull the zipper down with his teeth.   
  
      “Oh,” Steve said, his heart speeding up, a red flush creeping up his chest. Bucky smiled mischievously up at Steve.   
  
      “No.” Bucky said, shaking his head slightly. “I have other plans for you tonight.” He said. Steve accepted the answer, although he could feel Bucky’s breath against him, harder than he had ever been. He ached and moaned and watched Bucky’s smile widen. Bucky slid up his body to kiss and suck at his chest, leaving bruising dark circles along his sternum and clavicles. “Something to remember me by.” He whispered. The fact that the bruises would fade before they were done was not the point. He ducked his head into the crook of Steve’s neck and latching onto the tender flesh where his shoulder connected to his neck, biting and kissing, licking and sucking until Steve was a writhing mess beneath him. Bucky laughed against Steve’s skin, the vibrations feeling as good as anything else, that is, until he placed his thick, well-sculpted thigh between Steve’s and applied just enough pressure to remind them both of what was in store.   
  
      The movement called Steve back to his senses. He flipped them as easily as flipping a pillow and pinned Bucky down on the bed. The lighthearted glint vanished from his eyes, replaced by something darker, desperate, more feral. Sitting back, he tore the remaining scraps of clothing off of himself without allowing his gaze to wander from the watchful face beneath him. He saw Bucky’s expression as he examined every inch of Steve towering over him, and the expression of ecstasy when Bucky reached up to pull him into a kiss that shattered their last grip on restraint.   
  
      “Do you want me?” Bucky asked, his lips a hair’s breadth from Steve’s. Behind the crooked smile, his eyes roaming in the direction of Steve’s unrestrained erection, Steve heard the hesitation in his voice. He would not reject Bucky, no matter what the situation, but to be in bed, naked, with the man he loved was the reward for all the bad times that came before and everything that would certainly follow in the days to come. Steve wanted nothing but Bucky.   
  
      “Of course I do, you jerk.” He said, placing his hands gently on either side of Bucky’s face and allowing himself to be lowered back to the bed beneath Bucky. He felt Bucky’s hands on him as they kissed, their bodies flexing and curling together as one. Steve felt the pad of Bucky’s thumb trace its way along his lower lip as they kissed and opened his mouth wider to receive it, enjoying the salty taste and rougher texture. Two fingers replaced Bucky’s tongue, warm and soft but not the same as the kiss. Steve opened his eyes and watched the lust descend across Bucky’s face as he swirled his tongue around the digits.   
  
      “Baby,” He cooed, stroking the side of Steve’s face with his other hand. “I’m going to make it so good for you.” He rubbed his body along Steve’s to emphasize the point. “Gonna open you up so gentle. Make you beg for it first.” He said, watching Steve’s face, as full as it was, for a reaction. “You want that, babe?” He asked. Steve pulled his lips off of Bucky’s fingers slowly, relishing the sound they made as they left his mouth.    
  
      “God, yes.” He said. “But if that’s your plan, we might want a little more than this.” Steve said, looking at Bucky’s spit-soaked fingers before opening the drawer on the nightstand next to the bed and withdrawing a bottle of lube. Bucky picked it up, squirting some onto his hand. “Cherry, Steve?” he asked, noticing the flavor. “If I recall correctly, that’s long gone and I remember exactly where it went.”   
  
      “And as much as I would love a stroll down memory lane…” Steve began, before ducking his head down toward Bucky’s hard, full cock and taking as much of it into his mouth as he could. He bobbed up and down, listening to Bucky’s choked out exclamations and half-formed words until a fully formed sentence emerged.   
  
      “Steve, if you want me to touch you at all tonight, get your mouth off my dick right now.” Bucky said. When Steve pulled off with a wet, slick, _pop,_ he was laughing.   
  
      “Well, I had to get you to shut up somehow, didn’t I?” He asked. There was fire in Bucky’s eyes. The head of his cock wept. His voice was gentle, but firm, when he spoke.   
  
      “Hands and knees, now.”   
  
      “That’s more like it.” Steve said.   
  
      Bucky helped to guide Steve into position, placing a kiss on his lower back and inviting a whine from Steve. He caressed the curve of Steve’s ass, fingers slick and warm. Steve breathed in a sharp gasp when he felt Bucky’s finger breach the delicate ring of muscle. The mechanical hand traced slow, circular patterns along his hip to steady him as the warmer, flesh finger moved steadily in and out. He kissed Steve’s flank and added a second digit, moving carefully, but relentlessly. Steve dropped his head forward with a moan and pushed his hips back toward Bucky’s hands.   
  
      Taking the hint, Bucky kissed wetly again along Steve’s cheek, moving closer to the hand working inside of him. He replaced his fingers with his tongue, earning an animalistic cry from Steve. He had to work to keep himself from smiling, focusing on the task at hand instead. The flavor coated his tongue, a candy sweetness that he did not mind, but he drove on hoping for a taste of something more authentic—something more _Steve._ He felt the body beneath him tense and twitch, and heard the gasp. He flicked his tongue in the same direction again and found it, extracting another moan from Steve.   
  
      “Please, Buck.” He heard, Steve’s voice was deep and desperate. “God, please. I need—I need it. I need you to-- Bucky. Oh. Just…” The words came out as a string of babble, but the meaning was quite clear. Bucky flicked his tongue against Steve’s prostate one more time, eliciting another cry of his name and pulled himself away, slapping Steve’s ass with his bionic hand, and earning a wordless moan for his effort. Bucky stilled, feeling the heavy weight of his aching cock, pulsing between his legs.   
  
      “C’mon.” Steve said, sensing the sudden hesitation.  
  
      “Steve,” Bucky said. “You don’t know where I’ve been.” Bucky thought the words again, realizing their truth. “ **I** don’t know where I’ve been.” He echoed with more emphasis. In answer, Steve reached a hand back into the open bedside drawer and withdrew a small foil packet, handing it over his shoulder to Bucky without changing positions.   
  
      “Should I be jealous?” Bucky asked.  
  
      “You know me.” Steve said, smiling over his shoulder. “Be prepared. That’s my motto.” His smile broadened. Bucky snorted.   
  
      “Yeah, I know you. You were no boy scout, Steve, as much as the public would like to think you were. You’re not fooling me, I know what you are.” He said, tearing the foil and slipping the condom on, trying not to get carried away with his hand, still slippery from the lube.   
  
      “Show me what I am, then.” Steve said, his voice deeper and eyes darker as he captured Bucky’s gaze.   
  
      Steve watched as Bucky slid in, his eyes fluttering shut at the overwhelming warmth and tightness that enveloped him. “Don’t you dare go slow.” Steve said, moving his hips back to greet Bucky’s. With a low moan, Bucky reached for Steve’s hips and surged forward, gaining momentum with every thrust. He reached up into Steve’s hair, twisting the short strands around his fingers, feeling the texture and the control as he moved his hips in a pounding rhythm. He leaned forward and pressed scorching kisses to the back of his shoulders, his neck, licking the trickle of sweat making its way down from behind Steve’s ear.   
  
      “Aww, fuck.” Steve said, his breathing ragged, when Bucky struck true.   
  
      “There, Stevie?” Bucky asked, pounding harder at the physical response, the emphatic nod before Steve threw his head back in ecstasy and gave a high-pitched whine.   
  
      “God, yes. Bucky, right there.” Steve said, unnecessarily, when he caught his breath. Bucky continued to roll his hips at a galloping pace, sure that Steve could take everything he gave him and come back begging for more.   
  
      It hit them both at the same moment. A blinding flash of white, the contortion and spasm of muscles, a high so good that it felt like flying. They descended together, their cries still ringing in their ears in unison. As his breath returned to him, heartbeat pounding in his ears, Bucky pulled out and collapsed against Steve’s back.   
  
      Steve turned around, into Bucky’s arms, and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead. Bucky looked up into his eyes, seeing his own reflection in their glazed, glassy blue. He was sweaty and fucked out, lips slightly parted with a dazed expression of post-coital euphoria still hanging there. What Steve saw in him that made him want to kiss him with such genuine affection, Bucky could only guess.   
  
      As if reading Bucky’s thoughts, Steve kissed Bucky’s lips. It was not a demanding kiss, nor a kiss that spoke of sex, but it was no less passionate. With the kiss, Steve said everything that needed to be said. He said _I love you._


	7. Act III, Scene V

      They woke in the same instant. It was the slow pull of consciousness that drew them back into the world, warm in each other’s arms and the tangle of sheets around their legs. Steve gathered Bucky in, bringing him closer, and placing a kiss on the top of his head. The smell of sleep, lingering sex, and something that was unique to him alone filled his senses as he inhaled a lungfull of air. He wanted all of this memory.   
  
      “Good morning.” Bucky whispered. He tilted his head up, watching Steve’s face. He did not move, but something changed in his expression from peace to remorse. Bucky wished he could take it back.   
  
      “Shhh.” Steve said, smiling sadly. “It’s not morning yet.”  
  
      “Steve,” Bucky said, raising his eyebrows, “The sun is out. It is definitely morning.”   
  
      “But what if I do this?” Steve asked, tracing Bucky’s jaw with his index finger before leaning in for a kiss. They closed their eyes in the same moment, feeling the connection tingle through them. Bucky pulled Steve closer, wrapping a hand firmly around the back of his neck. They leaned into each other, spurred on by the urgency of the kiss, the desire to lose themselves in it and forget that there was anything else in the world. The darkness that enveloped Bucky’s senses with his eyes closed was almost as good as if the sun had never risen at all.  
  
      “Yeah,” Bucky whispered against Steve’s lip, keeping his eyes closed tight against the encroaching light. “That works.” He said. He felt more than heard Steve sigh against him, the warm, hot breath wafting across his cheek. It sent a jolt through him, waking him up. “And that works,” He said, his voice dropping by half of an octave.  
  
      “I’ll keep that in mind.” Steve said.    
  
      “You know what’s going to happen if we keep going.” Bucky said, pulling away from Steve, his whole being aching with regret.   
  
      “If last night was any indication, I have a pretty good idea. Yeah.” Steve said, tugging on Bucky’s hand.   
  
      “Steve, we really can’t.” He said, withdrawing his hand from Steve’s grasp and placing it gently on Steve’s chest, holding him at bay. “I have to find somewhere to lay low for a while. You are going to have a busy day.” Steve nodded. As much as he did not want to accept the decision, it was the right one to make.   
  
      “Send me a prepaid phone as soon as you can.” Steve said. “I want to know where you land, okay?” Bucky nodded as he slid out of bed and into the clothing strewn around the room.   
  
      “Don’t do anything stupid while I’m away.” Bucky said, returning to Steve and the warm, soft nest of sheets and pillows for one last goodbye kiss. Steve wanted to reply, but the words caught in his throat. There were too many ways for him to be stupid and his imagination would run rampant if he did not direct his mind elsewhere. He did not want Bucky leaving him with that on his mind. Instead, he opened his lips and pushed back deeper into the kiss, putting as much of his thoughts into action as he could. They separated, looking into each other’s eyes. The sting of the goodbye hurt more now, it was real in a way that it had not been before.   
  
      “See you soon,” Steve said. Bucky was sliding through the doors onto the balcony and disappearing into the world.

 +++

      Bucky had just disappeared into the bustling void of the city when the lock on the apartment door clicked open, bringing a welcome distraction. Steve dressed in a hurry and composed himself into a shadow of his usual controlled and collected self before striding into the living room. In place of the familiar petite frame and flaming hair that he expected, Steve saw Director Fury’s face staring at him with his constant intensity from the kitchenette. Agent Coulson stood next to him, watching the two with a coffee cup in hand.   
  
      “Good morning, Cap.” Agent Coulson said with forced joviality. “How are you?”  
  
      “Not great, actually.”   
  
      “I know.” Coulson said, dropping the cheer and allowing some honesty to seep into his expression. “We’re all still a little shaken. That’s normal.” He said. Steve nodded.  
  
      “Can I help you, Director?” Steve asked, turning his eyes toward Director Fury. He was taken aback at the house call, but unwilling to show it. This was another move on the chessboard. It would be Steve’s turn soon enough.   
  
      “That depends, Cap. Do you want to?” Director Fury asked, leaning against the counter with a sense of indifference that did not reach his face.   
  
      “If you’re here to talk about the bill—“ Steve said, treading cautiously. Had Fury seen Bucky? Was he waiting for Steve to admit something? How deeply was Steve stepping into his own grave? The questions spun in his mind.   
  
      “You’re damn right I’m talking about the bill.” Fury said, bringing his fist down on Steve’s countertop, disrupting the spiral of questions whirring in his mind. “I never thought I’d see the day when I would have to talk Steve Rogers into cooperating while Tony Stark is being a prime example of a team player. Have you two had a personality transplant during the past week?” He asked.   
  
      “I didn’t know that was an option, sir. Believe me, if I could switch personalities with anybody, Stark would not be my first choice.”   
  
      “Rhetorical, Rogers. Rhetorical question.”   
  
      “Right, sir.” Steve said, lowering his head.   
  
      “As far as I am aware, we don’t have that capability. Not yet, at least.” Agent Coulson said.  
  
      “We might as well.” Fury went on, “You’re making a scene in meetings. You’re moody, practically indifferent. Is something bothering you?” Fury asked. The question struck Steve like a punch. Yes. A million things were bothering him, not the least of which was watching Bucky disappear out of his bedroom window not ten minutes prior in order to avoid capture, but that was not the kind of thing he was going to tell the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. Steve rolled the question around in his mind. There were other things that were bothering him. The superhero registration bill, for one.   
  
      “Actually, sir.” Steve spoke up.  
  
      “No. That’s not why I’m here.” Director Fury interrupted. “Tell it to your therapist, Rogers.” Fury said. “I’m here to tell you to get your ass on board. The bill is happening, but it could use your support. You want to help rebuild? To make the country whole again? This is how you do it. Captain America and Iron Man kiss and make up, forgive and forget, and everything goes back to the way it needs to be.”   
  
      Steve bristled at the words. It would be a lie. He could see in the way that Director Fury’s eyebrows rose that this would not be an argument he could possibly win. Captain America does not back down, but Steve Rogers knew how to pick his battles. He would find another way to undermine the bill, all he needed was time.   
  
      “I understand, sir.” Steve said.   
  
      “There will be a press conference tomorrow. I expect you to fully endorse the bill. We need to stop the anti-super momentum before it gains any more traction.” Fury said. The gears in Steve’s head ground to a stop. This was not enough time. It would not be enough time for him to wrap his head around any of it, Bucky or the bill or any of the chaos that had filled Steve’s life in the past few days. He needed time to strategize and to think.   
  
      “Thank you, sir, but that won’t be possible.” Steve said in his most professional and detached tone. Director Fury turned to Agent Coulson.   
  
      “Thank you? He says ‘thank you?’” Fury barked a contentious laugh.   
  
      “I only meant thank you for the opportunity, but I’m going to have to sit this one out. I’m sure Hawkeye or somebody could stand in for me, though.”   
  
      “I am sure they could not. We need somebody with your stature and history. We need somebody who connects with the voters. We need an icon. That’s you, Cap.” Fury took a step forward, into Steve’s space. “I’m going to put it to you plain and simple. You help us out with this, and things stay real comfortable. If not, I can’t guarantee that your registration will be granted when the time comes.”   
  
      “Director Fury, you know I don’t respond well to threats.”   
  
      “Rogers, this is about S.H.I.E.L.D. There is nothing I wouldn’t do to maintain this organization.” With a last, seething glare at Steve, Director Fury turned on his heel and strode out of the apartment.  

      Steve took a deep, shaking breath to quell the fire threatening to burst into flames inside him. He did not realize that his hands had balled into fists until his fingers unclenched. He met with Agent Coulson’s cool expression.   
  
      “You’re not going to let him pull this kind of shit, are you, Agent?”   
  
      “He’s the director, Cap. Like it or not, Fury can pull whatever shit he wants to. If you’re in S.H.I.E.L.D. you make it work or you stop complaining about the smell.”  
  
      “Those don’t seem like good options.” Steve said.   
  
      “Sometimes, there are no good options.” Agent Coulson said. “I’ll see you at the press conference.” He nodded before following in Director Fury’s footsteps.

      It ate at Steve, the injustice and the lie of it all. He wished for something simple, ached for time just a few days ago, when the biggest enemy on the horizon had been HYDRA. Now his biggest enemy was Superhero Registration and the moral ambiguity that it imposed. More than anything, he wanted to hit something. Steve let out a heavy sigh and headed for the gym.

+++

  
      The room was abandoned, except for the one person Steve most hoped to see. He felt a kernel of frustration spring up at the memory of their last talk, and the way that her loyalties shifted so easily, but Steve did not doubt Natasha’s loyalty to him. It was her perspective, that ruthless decisiveness, that Steve needed now. Natasha looked over her shoulder as she sprinted along the treadmill and gave him a half-hearted smile.   
  
      “The punching bags had better run.” She said. “You look like you’re ready to kill something.” She huffed out before reaching out to slow the settings down to a mild jog. Natasha took a long drink from her water bottle and wiped her mouth on the back of her hand. “You’re letting it get to you.” She said, watching Steve carefully.   
  
      “What else am I supposed to do?” Steve asked. It was a genuine question, his tone sincere and looking for answers that Natasha did not have. She hopped off the treadmill and onto the mat, rolling seamlessly into a series of stretches.   
  
      “What happened?” She asked.   
  
      “Nothing new, really.” He said. “Fury came by and made some noise about the bill. Said I wouldn’t get registered if I don’t help.”   
  
      Natasha straightened up, listened and then swore low under her breath. “Shit, Steve.” She said, “Have you talked to Stark?”  
  
      “No. Why?”   
  
      “All I’m saying is I think you should.” Natasha shrugged. Steve felt the distinct sensation that there was something buried under that shrug. The moment carried them into a silence burdened by words unsaid. “Steve,” She began with a hint of hesitation in her tone, “What do you think would have happened if you hadn’t found Barnes again?” She asked. Her use of the name “Barnes” stuck in his ear. He remembered that Natasha had her own history with the Winter Soldier, however distant that might be. Steve shook his head.   
  
      “Bucky didn’t have anything to do with the explosion. He doesn’t have anything to do with superhero registration. I don’t get—“   
  
      "--But he has everything to do with why you won’t get on board.” She cut him off, although her tone was gentle. “That’s not the point, though. My point is about Stark. Where do you think you were headed with him.”  
  
      “Natasha, don’t.” Steve said.   
  
      “Steve, I’m just asking.”   
  
      “Well, don’t ask. It’s a moot point.” He shook his head. “We aren’t going there.”   
  
      “Okay. I’m not going there.” Natasha said, putting her hands up in front of her in surrender. “But if I did go there, all that I would say is your life would be a hell of a lot easier if you joined forces with Stark on this bill and stopped making a fight where there doesn’t need to be one. I might also say—if I went there, which I won’t—that you two were going getting pretty comfortable. Even sort of happy together before this all broke out.” Steve opened his mouth to argue, but she pressed on. “Like I said, I’m not talking about it, but if I did, I would say that there are other men on this planet besides James Buchanan Barnes and some of them are not wanted criminals—“   
  
      “Oh, that’s rich” Steve interjected under his breath, but Natasha carried on  
  
      “Some of them are on your team.” She concluded. Steve shook his head and grabbed his bag.   
  
      “That’s what you don’t understand about him, Nat.” Steve said. “Bucky has always been on my team.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, beautiful readers! All of my apologies for my sudden absence. I am so glad to return to this fic. As always, thank you for reading. You are a majestic, glorious, fabulous creature. Have a wonderful day.


	8. Act IV, Scene I

      Steve took the elevator back to his apartment feeling his blood curdle in his veins. If he could not find the solace and support that he looked for in Natasha, then where could he find it? It felt desperate. Bucky was gone and there had been no contact. He slipped away so easily, like water through rocks. Even the most powerful forces could not prevent him from disappearing beyond Steve’s reach if that was his choice.

      The thought strangled Steve. The elevator was too small, the air too thick. Panic rose inside of him. All around, choices were being made without his input. His world was being shaped by the decisions of others. As a soldier, he had grown accustomed to this, but Steve had never been good at taking orders. Control was something he could not give up without a fight. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, calming his nerves by imagining the soft, soothing way that Bucky breathed next to him at night. 

      As if a window had been opened, Steve saw what he had to do, illuminated as clearly as day:   
S.H.I.E.L.D. wanted Captain America to endorse the superhero registration bill. If he refused, they were willing to make him a villain. That was fine. He could play that role. But what if there was no Captain America? He thought to himself. What if Steve Rogers disappeared? It was an eerie thought, but through his desperation, it felt like relief.

      “JARVIS,” Steve said.

      “Yes, Captain Rogers,” The disembodied, but unwaveringly courteous voice replied. 

      “Get Stark on the line for me, will you?”

      “He is dining at the moment—“ 

      “He’s going to want to take this.” Steve interrupted. There was an extended silence on the line before the crunch of food in Tony Stark’s mouth gave Steve an audible signal that his call had gone through. 

      “Since when did you start having my calls screened?” Steve asked.

      “I have everybody’s calls screened.” Tony said. “You’ve just noticed.” Steve heard Tony chew and swallow another bite, slowly and methodically before asking, “So to what do I owe the honor, Cap? I thought you still had your panties in a bunch. Not that I’ve been thinking about your panties. Much.” 

      “I realized you were right.” Steve said, with his hands balled tightly into fists, and his face carved out of pure granite. There was a reason he made this phone call instead of saying this in person. Tony made a sound that was almost obscene. 

      “Say that again.”

      “Go stick your head in a bucket.” Steve said. 

      “That’s more like it. I was worried for a second.” Stark said. “Okay, well, I know I was right—because I am always right—but what was I right about, specifically?”

      “The bill.” Steve took a deep breath and fought to keep it from becoming a sigh. “Registration.” He said. “I don’t like it, but there has to be a way for us to work together on this.” Steve could almost hear the victorious expression on Stark’s face when he responded. 

      “Glad to hear you’ve come to your senses. We’ll talk shop before the press conference tomorrow, get everything sorted out.” 

      “That sounds fine.” Steve said, fighting the impulse to emulate Hulk and smash every breakable item in his apartment. Stark’s tone was just as unbearable as he imagined it would be. 

      “Remind me to send Romanov and Coulson gift baskets for getting you to come around on this one.” Stark said before hanging up. Steve threw his Starkphone and heard the resounding shattering sound of the screen. If Steve could not take his frustration out on Stark, himself, at least he could take it out on his technology.   


+++

      Steve’s motorcycle roared into the driveway of the safe house. He hardly felt the earth beneath his feet as he darted to the front door. It was feeble, he knew, to hope that this might be Bucky’s hideaway, but it was somewhere to start. _Better than nothing_ , he thought. He tore into the house and down the stairs into the bunker, looking around for anything that might give him a clue. Turning a corner, he ran nose to nose into a familiar face, although not the one he expected to see.   
  
      “Agent?” He asked in surprise.   
  
      “Captain.” Agent Coulson said, his tone wavering between professional aloofness and a guilty lilt. 

      “Have you seen him?” Steve asked. He did not have it in him to waste time on pleasantries. 

      “Who?” Coulson asked, his pitch slightly higher than usual. 

      “…Bucky?” Steve said. It occurred to him for the first time to doubt Coulson. Perhaps he was overestimating the agent’s willingness to help. 

      “Well. No.” Coulson said, rocking slightly on the balls of his feet. “I haven’t.” 

      “Wait.” Steve said, his eyebrows rising in suspicion. “What are you doing here?” He asked. 

      “I could ask you the same thing, Captain.” Coulson said, but Steve was already brushing past him, into the adjoining room, where he saw a large plastic tub containing a gooey, red substance. It had a pungent, acidic smell to it which reeked out the whole room and made him cough. 

      “Is that what I think it is?” Steve asked. Before turning away from the grizzly remains. “Is that _who_ I think it is?” Steve asked, feeling repulsed.

      “It’s classified.” Coulson said in a monotone. 

      “On whose orders?” 

      “Mine. The fewer people know what happened to Brock Rumlow, exactly, the better. He had a lot of enemies, sure, but he also had a lot of friends—but I know you weren’t one of them.” Coulson finished speaking with a rare, indulgent smile. 

      “I never would have pegged you for the cleaning crew, Agent.” Steve said.

      “I’m not, usually. Just didn’t want this information getting out.” Coulson said, leading the way back into the main bunker. 

      “So, thanks, then.” Steve said, swinging his arms uncomfortably. “For taking care of this for Bucky.” He did not add, “and me” although the sentiment was there. 

      “It’s fine.” Coulson said, popping the lid off of a can of tomato juice and sitting down. “Now tell me, Cap, how are you planning on going on the run?”

 

+++

 

      Bucky was good at disappearing. He watched the way the eyes of strangers skipped around him as if he were not there at all. It was, in part, the illusion of privacy granted by New York, but there was more to it than the anonymity provided by a big city and the uninviting atmosphere that he let off in waves. He had been trained in the art of hiding in plain sight. 

      He leaned against the wall of a bus stop shelter and lit a cigarette, ignoring the dirty looks shot at him by a few passersby. The Winter Soldier did not smoke. This was another layer of distance that he could use as a shield. He sighed and watched the smoke drift into the air around him, tendrils curling into nothingness, just like him. 

      Stamping the butt of the cigarette out, he made his way into a restaurant. He scrounged in the pockets of his stolen jacket and found enough crumpled dollars and loose change to buy a cup of coffee from a waitress who decidedly did not make eye contact. On the television, the ribbon read “Breaking: Iron Man endorses Superhero Registration.” under the familiar face of Tony Stark who was speaking into a microphone with an earnest expression. 

      So they had gone ahead and done it. Bucky thought, grimacing in resignation. Bastards. At least Steve had managed to keep his name out of it, he thought. An icy, anxious feeling trickled down Bucky’s back. _Had Steve managed to keep himself out of it_? The politics had seemed awfully convoluted from what Bucky had overheard and been privy to during his short time camped out at Steve’s. 

      “Excuse me, miss?” Bucky called to the waitress.

      “Yes?” She asked, keeping the counter between them. 

      “Could you turn the TV up?” 

      “No problem.” She said, relief seeping through in her tone that Bucky wanted something so easily accomplished. She pulled a remote control out from behind the counter and pressed the button a couple of times. The sound of applause drifted from the Television set. 

      Spider Man approached the podium next. _Where is Steve?_ Bucky wondered absently, half-hearing Spider Man’s endorsement of the bill. It wasn’t until Spider Man reached up to his cowl and pulled it off, revealing the nervous but resolute face beneath it that he connected the dots. Steve was not there. 

      “Oh my god, oh my god!” The waitress screamed to somebody back in the kitchen. “Holy shit! Come quick. On the news… Is that? Is that Peter? That’s Peter!” 

      Bucky was already out the door, heading for the tower.

 

+++

      “This is what you have to understand about S.H.I.E.L.D.” Coulson said, leaning back in his seat. “There is no getting out. Not for Captain America.” 

      “I know that.” Steve said.

      “Good, because for them, there are two options: You play along like a good little soldier, or they turn you into public enemy number one.” 

      “And these are my only two options?” Steve said, remembering Peggy Carter asking him the same question a lifetime ago. 

      “Of course not.” Coulson said. “There is always another option.”

      “Which is?” Steve asked, is voice leading. 

      “You die.” Agent Coulson said, completely matter of fact. Steve nodded. 

      “I kind of figured. I would like to avoid that one, though.” 

      “So would I, Captain. So would I.” Coulson said, nodding slowly. “That’s exactly why my team made up these babies.” He said, extracting a small vile from his pocket. 

      “What is it?” Steve asked. 

      “It’s a dendrotoxin. It could take down an elephant the size of the Hulk—in fact, that’s pretty much what it’s for. On you, it should look like death for at least 8 hours. That’s enough time for us to get you to a safe location, don’t you think?” Coulson handed the vile to Steve to examine. It was a bright green color that shone through the glass container. 

      “And you’d do that?” He asked. 

      “Sure.” Coulson said. “It’s nothing to dropping into a one-man rescue op in the dead of night on a fully-manned Hydra base during the middle of World War II.” He said. Steve Shrugged. “But here’s the thing, Cap. It’s not enough for me to shoot you with this and then smuggle you away later. S.H.I.E.L.D. has to think you are dead. _Everybody_ has to think you are dead. Otherwise, this is all a waste.”   


+++

      Steve arrived back home that afternoon to a cacophony of cameras and reporters. He swerved into the secret entrance to the garage just in time to avoid the scene, but it shook him, all the same. All this media attention could only mean that something important had happened. He felt in his pocket for his phone and remembered that it was on the kitchen counter where he left it, the screen still shattered. He had not bothered to get a replacement for the half-day that he was out of the house.

      Forehead wrinkled in concern, lips drawn into a tight line, Steve took the private elevator to his floor and found Natasha there. She fixed him with a piercing stare, the kind that made Steve feel as if he were being x-rayed.   
  
      “You don’t know yet.” She said. 

      “Know what?” Steve asked? He felt a tightness around his chest that he had not experienced since his worst asthma attacks. Natasha walked to the couch and turned on the television without a word. The image of Spiderman’s unmasking was broadcast into the room. 

      “You’ve been replaced.” Natasha said.

 

+++ 

      Steve barged headlong into the conference room where Tony Stark and several other major-league superheroes sat with Nick Fury discussing the press conference. Tony stirred a martini for himself with a look of smug satisfaction. He caught sight of the intruder and rose to greet him, glancing at Fury, then at the others, with a look of _Well, what are you gonna do?_ before stepping into the hallway. 

      “What the hell, Stark?” Steve asked without a hint of humor. 

      “What, Steve, feeling a little left out now?” Tony asked. He tilted his head to the side and watched Steve seethe. 

      “I thought you weren’t going on TV until tomorrow.” Steve said.

      “You had a change of heart a little too quickly. There was so much bullshit in that phone call that I could smell it.” He looked Steve up and down. “You’re planning something.”

      “Maybe.” Steve said, refusing to look away. 

      “It’s common sense, Steve. You are a risk. We went with plan B. After all, I thought you were the one who didn’t want anything to do with this.” He gestured behind him toward the room.

      Steve walked away shaking his head. It was true, he did not want anything to do with the mess behind him, but as he considered Tony Stark’s words all he could think was _I have to make you kill me,_ and the thought burned its way into him like acid. As he reached the end of the hall, he turned back one last time.

      “It’s true, Tony.” He said, forcing the words out. “I am a risk.” 

      Tony did not dignify his threat with a response, but turned away and walked through the double doors back to his martini and his powerful friends. For the first time in quite a while, Steve remembered what it was like to feel small.   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was so plot heavy. Thank you for bearing with me.   
> Turns out, combining two forms of source material (Marvel Civil War and Romeo and Juliet) while also trying to stay true to the nature of the characters as they exist in my mind is ridiculously difficult! It is a challenge that I love, though.  
> As always, thank you for reading, you Sparkling Unicorn of Grace and Wonder.


	9. Act IV, Scene II, III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plot plus phone sex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all. If you've been following along with your Shakespeare folio, you will note that a lot of this fic has been adapted scene-for-scene, if not line-for-line from R&J ('cause I'm a huge fucking nerd). We're going to have to get a little more flexible as we wind down, because I don't want to write about the double-suicide/murder of my favorite characters.   
> Hope that's chill with y'all.   
> Happy reading, you glorious, fabulous creatures with great big, wonderful brains. Have an excellent day.

_I have to make you kill me._ Steve thought over and over as he paced back and forth across his bedroom floor. Before him, his mind projected the image of Tony Stark’s face. He felt a light sheen of sweat gather across his brow. The thought of death did not bother him anymore. He had looked death in the face countless times and found himself, somehow, inexplicably, on the other side. It was the betrayal that ate away at his resolve while he strode back and forth and back and forth. A sharp knock on his front door made him jump.  

      “You’re being an idiot.” Natasha said, leaning against the doorframe when he answered. She let herself in and took a beer out of the refrigerator for herself without offering one to Steve. She knew he would say no. She knew a lot of things about Steve.   
 

      “What makes you say that this time?” He asked, resting his hands on his hips. He felt the defensiveness creep up in him without conscious effort. 

 

      “As if I haven’t faked my own death a fair few times, Steve. You’re going to need some help here, and I’m not just talking about Agent Coulson.” Natasha said, taking a step further into his space, pushing his defenses down. 

      “How? Nat!” Steve spluttered. “You can’t—“ He said, pivoting on the spot, looking around. “You can’t just say something like that.” 

      “Relax, Steve. If you’re planning on getting yourself shot for treason, the best thing you can do is start running your mouth.” She said. “That is what you’re planning, right?” She asked. Steve nodded. He took a deep breath and collapsed in on himself, taking a seat on the couch, his head in his hands.   
  
      “It’s easier said than done. What do you suggest?” He asked, looking up at Natasha. He felt as if he were seeing her, truly seeing Natasha, the mastermind behind the deception and espionage, for the first time. This was the face behind her mask.   
  
      “Okay. Here’s what we are going to do…” 

+++

  
      The plan materialized around Steve. He felt as if all he had to do was watch and Natasha’s words became his life. The first step was reaching out, discovering who was with him. It was easier than he imagined. By the end of the day, a small group of people who shared his views had amassed. Steve felt the burden of leadership fall squarely on his shoulders.

      After voicing his opposition to Stark so loudly, Steve could no longer take advantage of his hospitality. It felt wrong to conspire against him under his own roof. The decision to leave was easy, although it created a tangible division between the two of them. 

      He looked around the room that had once been his, let out a heavy sigh, and slid out onto the balcony to savor the view one last time, recalling the conversation that he had shared there with Bucky. So much had changed in only a few days—had it really only been days?—that Steve wished he could go back to their moments together if only to savor them for just a little longer.

      Steve understood that there was more to this than Bucky and himself. This feud was no game, but rather a matter of life and death for so many people. As he surveyed the teaming streets below, he felt confident in the plan. Steve wanted escape, but running was not in his nature. Captain America would fight until the very end, and then he would go home to the one he loved.

      Agent Coulson found Steve as he was carrying the last box of his few personal effects out of what had been his apartment. His face was unreadable, but he fell into step with Steve and spoke quietly. 

      “I have had my team check your new place for bugs. It is clear. Be careful anyway.” He said. Steve nodded. “Drop the box.” Coulson said. Steve looked questioningly at Coulson. “Just do it.” He said. Steve let the box fall from his hands. Agent Coulson bent to help retrieve the items that had spilled across the floor and slipped a phone in while he returned Steve’s pictures and books. “Our mutual friend says hello.” He said. 

      “Thank you.” Steve said. They walked together in silence for a while longer, with nothing left to say. Eventually, Coulson departed, satisfied with the knowledge that he had left Steve with more than a phone, he left him with some hope as well. 

+++

  
The second Steve threw the latch on his front door, he was calling one number programmed into the cheap, plastic phone that Coulson had slipped into the box. 

      “My God, Steve, do you know how hard it is to find a phone to buy without having to sign anything? It ain’t easy.” Bucky said in greeting. 

      “It’s good to hear from you, Buck.” Steve said. 

      “Yeah, you too, buddy.” Bucky said. He paused and Steve knew just which face he was making, exactly how his eyebrows were drawing together and the way his forehead was creasing in sincerity. “Been worrying about you.” Bucky said. It made Steve smile and rest the phone on his shoulder so he could rub his hands across his face. 

      “You know you don’t have to, Bucky.” Steve said.

      “No. I know that’s exactly what I ought to be doing. What kind of fool plan have you got stewing in that head of yours?” He asked.

      “The kind of plan you can’t ask questions about. Just know it’s going to get me out. I’m gonna get us out. We’re gonna go someplace new, someplace safe, where it’s just the two of us. Start over. What do you think?” 

      “I think those are a lot of nice words. What are you going to do, though, Rogers? Become Captain Canada? You going to pretend to be a very muscular art teacher and watch the news the next time Aliens invade New York? Is that really going to make you happy?” Bucky asked. Steve knew that face, too, the one that tucked the corners of Bucky’s mouth up in a grimace of resignation to hide the pain. He shook his head even though Bucky couldn’t see. 

      “No, Bucky. _You_ make me happy. Being with you is going to make me happy.” 

      “Jesus, Rogers.” Bucky groaned.

      “Nope. Just Steve.” 

      “You’re hilarious.” Bucky said and Steve could all but hear him roll his eyes. 

      “I’m a lot of things.” Steve said. 

      “Oh yeah?” Steve heard the tone of Bucky’s voice darken drastically, his pitch dropping. It sent a jolt all the way through him, like a livewire running right through the core of him. “What are you right now?” Bucky asked, his intention plain as day. 

      “Hard.” Steve said without dancing around the issue. He found himself sitting on his bed, one hand pressing lightly on the bulge straining against his trousers. It was nowhere near enough relief. “I miss you.” He said. 

      “What do you miss?” Bucky asked. 

      “Everything, Buck. I miss you so much I think I’m going to die from it.” 

      “Tell me.” Bucky said. Steve felt the command more than heard it, the blood rushing further south. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the headboard. 

      “I miss your mouth.” Steve said.

      “You miss the way I suck it?” Bucky’s voice was low and gravely. “I love the way you taste, Steve.” He said. “I could come just thinking about it. Sucking you off and swallowing it all down. Fuck, baby. It’s like nothing else.” He said. Steve’s breathing sped up. He unzipped his pants and managed to wriggle them halfway down his thighs before licking his palm and wrapping a hand around his aching erection. With his eyes closed, and Bucky whispering in his ear, he could almost pretend. 

      “Oh, Bucky.” He moans.

      “You want me to suck you off, baby?” Bucky asked. “Or do you want me to fuck you so hard and so good that you come before I even touch you?” He offered. Steve moaned again and the speed of his strokes increased. “Yeah,” Bucky said, “I thought that’s what you would want. You want me to take my time and fill you up just right. Fuck” Bucky let out a low, filthy moan “you’re so tight. Doesn’t matter what I do to you, baby, you’re always perfect for me.” A smile spread across Steve’s face at Bucky’s words. A certain sense of pride filled him from the knowledge that Bucky thought he was perfect. It did not matter what anyone thought of him, or what anybody would think of him in the future. Bucky thought he was perfect. That was enough. He twisted his hand just so and let out a small, breathy gasp.   
“You feel me, Stevie?” Bucky asked. “Was that for me?” 

      “’Course, Bucky. It’s all for you.” Steve said. When Steve came, it was with Bucky’s name on his lips and his voice in his ear.

+++

      The Superhero Registration Act passed into law and the resistance movement grew around Steve like tremors before a tidal wave. Steve felt himself riding along something he could not control and could not stop, it carried him forward and he braced himself for a crash. He called and some superheroes answered, either from loyalty to the Captain or from the same itching feeling of wrongness that he felt at the idea of registering under the law. Whatever the reason, a groundswell of support surged around Steve. Sam Wilson arrived in the dead of night.   
  
      “Good to see you.” Steve said, clasping his hand and pulling him into an embrace. Sam clapped him on the back.   
  
      “Told you before, man. You need my help, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.” 

+++

  
      Steve called Agent Coulson in the early hours of the morning to ask if there was any news.   
  
     “Good morning,” He said, voice tight and strained.   
  
      “Is the line secure?” Steve asked.   
  
      “It is, but I’m not. You’re going to have to find a new source over here. I’ve done everything I can for you.” Coulson said. His tone was not unkind, but the words rumpled Steve. This was part of the conflict, he considered. There comes a point when neutrality itself is a form of disloyalty. Steve understood that.   
  
      “Of course.” He said. “Thank you for everything, sir.”   
  
      “You’re welcome. Good luck.” Agent Coulson said, before hanging up. The silence on the line sounded like the final nail in a coffin.

+++

      Natasha arrived later that afternoon.   
  
      “So, it’s us against the U.S. government. We doing this again?” She asked.   
  
      “Yeah. We’re doing this again.” He said, a faint smile finding its way onto his face for the first time in days.

+++

      Steve called Bucky when he found a moment to himself. Bucky answered before the first ring had finished sounding. His voice was low and carried the tone of mischief that had only returned to it since they started calling each other regularly; two or three times a day as their lives permitted.   
  
      “I’m in public, but if we’re really creative and really vague, I’m sure I could come up with a way to—“  
  
      “Actually, I was calling for another reason.” Steve said, thoughts of their last phone call making him blush.   
  
      “Really now?”   
  
      “Since we’re both living underground now, why not do it together? It’s stupid to do this long distance if we don’t have to.” Steve said, rushing to get the words out. There was a long silence from the other end of the line. Steve felt his throat narrow, constricting with nerves, as Bucky did not respond. “Buck?” He asked. “You don’t have to. It was only an idea.”   
  
      “It’s a good idea. I just have a couple of things to finish up here.” He said, a twinge of regret in his voice. “Give me twenty-four hours. I’ll be at your door.”


End file.
